


someone new

by scumfuck



Category: IT 2017
Genre: Eddie Kaspbrak - Freeform, Eddie and Richie, M/M, No Smut, Reddie, Richie Tozier - Freeform, a little promiscuous, but yeah a bit nsfw, gays in 90s nyc bc i'm a SUCKER for old gays, i hate writing smut lol sorry, out of college, reddie au, richie and eddie, richie lowjey a slut but we don't slut shame so ...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 16:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14193153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scumfuck/pseuds/scumfuck
Summary: Richie climbed up the fire escape, fully intent on smoking for an hour or so, but as he did so, something caught his eye. He peered through the window of the apartment right above his, and saw the man he met earlier that week. Eddie? Yeah, Eddie. That was his name.He was pacing back and forth, wearing only boxers, and biting his fingernails. Richie figured he shouldn't just sit there and stare like a pervert, so he reached out and knocked on the glass.





	someone new

The buzzer to Richie's apartment starts ringing. He thinks groggily, while trying not to blind himself from the light of the window, that perhaps if he didn't open the door, it would stop. But it didn't. Instead, it hesitated, and then buzzed again, for a couple seconds longer. Then a third time, moments later.

  
He pushed himself from the bed and didn't bother picking up his glasses. He simply dragged himself towards the door and pulled it open, scratching a spot on his bare chest.

  
Standing maybe a couple inches below him was a man. He glanced worriedly up at Richie. Richie thought he'd seen him before... He doesn't think so, but maybe he was just drunk at the time. While he was trying to remember, the boy, with wide eyes, spoke.

  
"Hey, uh... I'm Eddie. Kaspbrak. I found this, I'm pretty sure it's yours... So here," he said, and handed over a cardboard box. Richie noticed it, and tossed it behind his shoulder, making do to close the door.

  
"Thanks, kid," he mumbled sleepily. Eddie squeaked a bit, murmuring something. Richie stopped and turned back to him.

  
"I was wondering if I could use your telephone?" he asked. Richie stared at him, comprehending what he was saying.

  
"The... the phone. Yeah, sure, you can use the phone." Richie let him in, and Eddie closed the door softly behind him.  
Richie went to get his glasses, jumping over dirty laundry on the way. When he could actually see, he seemed to be more awake. He started to speak from the other side of the apartment.

  
"You've moved in recently, right? Eddie. Yeah, I guess that sounds familiar. You know, I had a friend in college named Eduardo. He came all the way from Mexico, yeah," Richie babbled, shaking out the knots from his hair.

  
Eddie stood near the door, scratching his neck. "It's a... nice place you've got here," he commented. Richie grinned.

  
"Thanks," he looked around, proud, then, "What was it you asked again?"

  
Eddie blinked at him. "The telephone?"

  
Richie snapped his fingers quickly. "Right!" He spun in the living room, eyeing the apartment. "I think I... Oh! I put it in here." He glided over to the fridge, where a spiraled cord hung out, and opened it. He grinned almost wolfishly at his visitor. "It muffles the sound."

  
Eddie's eyebrows raised as Richie handed it out to him. He tentatively took it, as Richie slyly apologized about it being cold.

  
Eddie dialed a number and held the cold plastic to his ear. Richie stared at him for a second. "It's Sunday, isn't it? Did you just come back from church?" he asked while the phone rung. Eddie glanced at him. Richie only asked because Eddie was dressed rather fancy.

  
"It's Monday," he replied. Richie gasped.

  
"No way. No, it can't be Monday... It was just fucking Friday!" Richie jumped over the couch and ran towards the bedroom, holding his head. "No! It's too nice outside for a Monday!

  
Eddie stared after him. When the other line didn't pick up, he bit his lip and replaced the phone. He peeked into Richie's bedroom, where he was hastily getting dressed. Eddie blushed and looked away.

  
"Are you late to something?" he asked, trying to fill the silence. Richie stuck his head into the doorway. His eyes were comically huge, and Eddie stared right back at him.

  
"Not late, Eds... No, not really. Well, I want to be more productive, ya know? Tryna be more productive, spite my dad." He popped back out and Eddie heard him rummaging through his room.

  
He nodded, looking around at the posters on the wall. There was one for David Bowie, he noticed, and another for the Talking Heads, hovering over a box of records.

  
"Where's your place?" Richie asked then, swiftly walking around with a toothbrush stuck in his mouth. He wore a loose white shirt, that drowned his skinny body in fabric. It tucked in the back of baggy jeans Eddie could've sworn were from the 80's. He didn't say anything, just weakly smiled and answered.

  
"Right above here, actually." He bit his lip again, and ran a hand through his hair. "I kinda- uh, hear your parties a lot."

  
Richie snorted and nodded, spitting out his toothpaste in the kitchen sink before pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his jeans pocket. Eddie really wanted to say something about how he literally just washed his teeth, but decided against it because the two weren't exactly close.

  
"Diego fuckin' hates me for those things," he said through the cig between his lips. Eddie swallowed and nodded. "You want breakfast or somethin'?"

  
"It's 1:30," Eddie declined.

  
"Huh."

  
"Yeah..."

  
Richie shrugged and passed by Eddie anyway, pulling on Doc Martens and grabbing his wallet from a coffee table awkwardly thrown in the middle of his apartment.

  
"I should get out of your hair, actually. Thank you for the phone," Eddie said, smiling sweetly and gliding past Richie. "I'm actually- this is so embarrassing, god- I'm actually locked out of my apartment." Richie raised his eyebrows and took another drag of his cigarette, even though he wasn't allowed to smoke in the hallway. "I'm gonna have to go get a new key."

  
Richie hummed in agreement. "Sucks. That happened all the time when I was in college. 'Cept I just kept my window open and climbed through that."  
Eddie snorted as Richie closed the door to his apartment. They were silent for a moment.

  
"Well it was nice to meet you, Eddie-boy, but I haven't eaten real food in almost 24 hours," Richie sighed, "So I'll see you around?"

  
Eddie blinked up at him, waiting to respond. "Yeah, yeah," he rushed out, shaking his head. "I'll see you around."  
Richie grinned and turned towards the stairwell, putting his two fingers up in the air as a salute for goodbye.

  
"Good luck with finding your key!" he yelled down the hallway, where Eddie stood and stared after him.

* * *

 

Richie hung over the man, biting at his earlobe and whispering, "I hear you're rich, yeah? I like rich men... They turn me on." He tried not to laugh at his own words, or at the fact that this guy actually liked hearing him talk like that. Did rich guys get off to being called rich? Of course they did. Richie's fucked every not-heterosexual rich guy in Manhattan.  
The party was one on the top floor. He didn't host one because he had the week earlier, and he didn't feel like cleaning up afterwards, or having to buy more beer. So he settled with this one.

  
Guys at these parties asked him if he was a sex worker. He wished he could say yes. Maybe they'd give him money for a lap dance. Hey, it's a profession. You gotta do what you gotta do. He usually got money from doing simpler things, like deejaying at parties he wasn't invited to and working whenever he pleased at the record store down the street, Drastic Plastic.

  
This guy seemed to like him, though. Heh, maybe he could marry him and inherit all his money. That'd be swell. He thought about it as his ass was forcefully grabbed. When the man, who wasn't that attractive to begin with, leaned forward to whisper something he ignored in his ear, Richie re-evaluated. This guy probably had a wife at home. What a shame. He could fuck him anyway... What harm could that do to him?

  
He pulled back after pressing a hot kiss to the man's neck. He gave him a once over, and oh, shit, the poor guy's already rock hard. Even more of a shame.  
Richie lightly dragged his finger down the man's chest, before winking, turning on his heel and leaving the apartment through the open door. 

  
He made do to go back to his apartment, climbing down the staircases quickly.

  
"Baby! Where're you goin'?!" Oh, shit. Not again. Richie skipped down the stairs faster, the man right behind him, whining and slurring his words. "Thought we had somethin', pretty boy!"

 

Richie wanted to throw up. Fuck.  
He reached his apartment and closed the door tightly behind him, locking it. Within seconds the man was banging on it, yelling for him to come out and give him a second chance. Richie kept quiet, opening his window, and the man grew angry.

  
"Fuck you, fucking slut," he slurred, and Richie rolled his eyes to the back of his head as he climbed onto the fire escape. "You're a whore, you fucking... You fucking fruit."

  
Richie climbed up the fire escape, fully intent on smoking for an hour or so, but as he did so, something caught his eye. He peered through the window of the apartment right above his, and saw the man he met earlier that week. Eddie? Yeah, Eddie. That was his name.

   
He was pacing back and forth, wearing only boxers, and biting his fingernail. Richie figured he shouldn't just sit there and stare like a pervert, so he reached out and knocked on the glass.

  
Eddie jumped and snapped his head towards the window, his eyes widening as they caught Richie's. He stepped over and opened the window, letting Richie jump in.

  
"Eddie! Long time no see, how are you, darling?" Richie drawled, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

  
"You smell like alcohol."

  
Richie blinked and nodded. "Yeah... There was a party upstairs. Totally lame, some guy chased after me, all desperate. Guess no one can resist this pretty face, huh?"

  
Eddie sat back and rested on his neatly made bed, seemingly in shock.

  
"Why're you half naked?" Richie prodded, raising an eyebrow at Eddie.

  
Eddie stood up instantly, reaching for a t-shirt to throw on, mumbling incoherently.  
"Well, I wasn't exactly expecting someone to walk through my window at," he paused, staring at his clock, "quarter to midnight."

  
Richie snickered at the quick comeback, biting his lip as Eddie pulled on the shirt.

  
"Look, you can throw me out, if you want," Richie started, moving towards his bed and kicking away clothes on the floor with his toes, "But you looked so cozy in here and it was getting pretty fuckin' cold out on the fire escape, y'know."

  
He moved in front of Eddie, who stared up at him from the bed. He hesitated, before sighing. "And I always heard people in New York never get to know their neighbors."

 

Richie pushed back the hair from Eddie's forehead and hummed. "Not always the case..." He glanced up, quickly getting distracted. "Yo, what kinda camera is that?" He pointed to one on the shelf next to Eddie's bed, swiftly walking towards it.

"Oh- Minolta Maxxum. It was really expensive, please don't-"

Richie was already taking it off of the shelf and moving it in his hands, weighing it and turning it on to see Eddie in the viewfinder.

"Cool. This is like, a serious camera, huh?" He took his head away from it and squinted at Eddie from across the room. Eddie shrugged.

"I bought it when I went to Chicago."

"Chicago? Sweet!" Richie exclaimed, "Chicago's supposed to be awesome. I've never been anywhere but Maine and New York. That's how lame my life is." He thought for a moment, setting down the camera before adding, "I'm totally gonna marry some foreign millionaire when I meet him. Maybe he'll take me some place exotic."

Eddie sat up against his headboard as Richie took a detour around the small apartment.

"You're sweet, you know," he commented, "And you look a little like a young Anthony Perkins. You mind if I call you Anthony?"

Eddie glared at him. "Please don't. I'll have to call you Dick, you know, say things like 'Got any gum on ya, Dick?', see how you'll like that," Eddie shot back. Richie laughed loudly as he played around with a trinket on his desk.

"You got any records?" Richie asked after a while of silence, running a hand through his hair. Eddie perked up.

"Yeah, they're in that box over there. I'll get them," he started, but Richie stopped him.

"Oh no! I'll do it. You keep your pretty butt right there, don't wanna bother you."

Richie rummaged through the records, rolling his eyes at some and smiling at others. He finally pulled one out.

"Tears for Fears, huh? Woulda thought you were more of a Psychedelic Furs guy, really," he spoke as he started the record. "Or at least, maybe I was just making an assumption. I'm into Richard Butler myself- maybe I'm being bias."

Eddie stared at him with a thoughtful look. He cut him off halfway through going on about a gay rockstar.

"May I ask what you do?"

Richie looked up at him from the floor.  
"Oh," he mumbled, a little shaken. "I... It's kind of hard to explain."

"Because what you do is complicated?"

Richie pondered for a moment, sticking out his bottom lip. "No, because I don't really do it." It was silent. "I'm a DJ, I guess," he finished.

Eddie smiled light heartedly at the answer, intrigued. "You know, something you said the other morning has been bothering me all week."

"What's that?"

Eddie sat back, licking his lips and staring up at the ceiling. "You said you wanna be more productive to spite your dad. Why?"  
Richie snorted. He sat up on the corner of his bed and nodded his head to the music, his curls bouncing.

"Ah, you know how it is. Papa didn't pay for college for nothin'! That's what he said on Christmas a couple years ago. I told him, gimme a number, and when I'm rich, I'll give it all back to you. Pay the debt. He kicked me out."

Eddie frowned, biting at a fingernail. "Fuck that."

Richie shrugged. "Yeah, whatever. He thinks I'm a prostitute now."

Eddie laughed a little, and Richie did too. The record stopped and it was silent, even outside, not a sound was made. Richie stood up.

"Welp, the man's gone."

Eddie threaded his eyebrows together. "What man?"

Richie ran a hand through his curls. "Some rich guy. He's sweet when he's not drunk, really. But once he hits the vodka, oh golly, he forgets about his wife and everything! Stares at me from across the room like I'm the new Playgirl magazine." Richie swayed it off with his hand as if it were a regular occurrence. "Anyways, he followed me back to my apartment. It got so tiresome I had to leave at some point. He's gone now, though." Richie sighed and grinned down at Eddie. "Thanks for having me, cutie."

  
He took a second, before he leaned down and connected their lips, kissing him sweetly. He pulled back when Eddie parted his own. Then he winked, inching back towards the window, and climbing back onto the fire escape, giving a mere wave of goodbye to Eddie.

* * *

 

Richie needed a drink. It was Saturday night, and he needed a fucking drink. Of course, he lost most of the drinking friends he used to go out with in college. The reason for that was simply because they had all grown up and married and moved to suburbia in New Jersey and he was still living out his early twenties.

  
So he threw on his club pants - leather ones, the ones easiest to get off - right over his butt huggers. He wasn't ashamed that he wore those. David Bowie wore them. So like, who cared?

  
He shook out his curls a couple times in the mirror until they were messy and frizzy, and left the house. He went up a floor, knocking on Eddie's door at around 8 p.m. until he opened it.

  
Eddie came to the door with a tired look, his eyes widening after noticing that Richie was on the other side.

  
"Oh- hey," he shuffled in the doorway, "What's uh- what's up?"

  
Richie leaned against the frame. "Wanna go out?"

  
Eddie glanced up at him, his mouth propping open. Richie suckered the boy into coming along, and Eddie obliged, telling him to wait so he could put on more "reasonable" attire.

When he came back out Richie wanted to touch him everywhere, because god damn, he cleaned up nicely. He combed his hair back and put on jeans and a fitted shirt and-

"I'm gonna take us to that gay bar a couple blocks down, that cool with you, Anthony Perkins?" Richie asked, hailing a cab on the street. Eddie stared up at him.

"Please don't call me that- and I've never been to uh, a gay bar before."

Richie gave him a sly smile as they slid in the seat. He told the driver the name of the club and turned back to Eddie, who sat rather still in his seat.

"Relax, pretty, it's not the end of the world. It's just like every other bar," Richie assured, reaching out to rest his hand on Eddie's thigh, squeezing it lightly.

"I know, I just-"

The cab abruptly stopped and cut Eddie off. Richie removed his hand and stepped out of the cab, tapping his fingers against his wallet as he smiled over the car to Eddie. He bent over to pay the driver quickly, and then roamed around the car to meet Eddie.

When they entered, he was pretty sure Eddie was already going to throw up. It was smokey and crowded, but Richie was in his element already... He dragged Eddie by his arm, towards the bar, sliding into the two seats he could find.

He ordered them shots as soon as they got there, and Eddie was staring open mouthed at the other side of the bar.

"Cool it, Kaspbrak, don't pitch a tent too fast," Richie joked casually, lighting a cigarette and taking the shot he was given.

"I'm not going to- I'm not!" Eddie sputtered out, his face flushed as he spun on the stool to face his drink.

Richie bought another round of shots and downed them in one go, grinning wolfishly at Eddie after he did. He leaned forward and pressed his hand on his thigh, going straight to whisper in his ear.

"I can pay to get you a lap dance, if you want," he suggested, breathing hot air on Eddie's neck. "Or I can give you one for free..."

Eddie stiffened in his seat. When Richie pulled back, he was biting his lip. He looked away from Richie, not letting their eyes meet. Richie chuckled and lit another cigarette, blowing the smoke into the space before them. He leaned against the bar and stared ahead at nothing in particular- the strippers weren't really that great that night anyway.

As he took long drags from the smoke, someone inched towards them. Richie expected the man to come to him, but he stopped at Eddie. Within minutes the stranger was taking Eddie to dance on one side of the bar, and Richie saw him flash before his eyes. His mouth dropped open. Eddie, getting a guy, and not him? He would have thought Eddie and him had something going... Did he say something wrong? Of course not, no... It had to be this guy's fault, not his own.

He glanced over after about fifteen minutes and caught Eddie cornered against a wall, sheepishly smiling as the man sweet talked him. Richie was going to barf. Gross. He blinked and ordered another shot of tequila, downing it and wincing while he did so.

Then he turned back to Eddie and his boy toy. Now, Eddie was being pushed against the wall. When Richie blinked, he could've sworn he saw his face and it didn't look like it was enjoying it. Oh, the poor thing. Richie stood after he caught a glimpse of the stranger grabbing at Eddie... He staggered towards them, and if he wasn't drunk, it would look a lot more heroic.

"Hey, bud," Richie tapped on his shoulder, putting on a grin that he wished looked more charming at that moment.

The man spun around, and Eddie looked pretty scared behind him. His eyes were wide and all Richie could see was white. The man spat something at him, but he couldn't really hear it over the music playing in the bar.

"Listen, as much as I would totally be down for a threesome, you know what they say," Richie slurred, loud enough for him to hear, and hung an arm over Eddie, "Consent, is always correct." Richie blinked and brought a finger to poke at the man's chest hard. "You, my friend, have clearly never taken a basic high school health class in your life."

The man glared at him as Richie started to explain the do's and don't's of sex. Eddie squirmed under his arm.

"He was enjoying it, asshole." The stranger's entire face was red now, in pure anger. Richie laughed at it, but he didn't really realize he was laughing. "Who the fuck do you think you are? You look like one of those fucking dancers up there," the man shouted. Richie pouted and looks down at his leather pants and thin shirt. The next thing he felt was the guy pushing at his chest. Richie stumbled backwards and his smile dropped as he regained his posture.

"Dude, I took a self defense class in college," Richie warned, and Eddie pleaded with him to shut up, to leave, that he could handle it all.

Richie couldn't really remember what happened next. He was told that he was knocked out and Eddie had to drag him home when he was conscious again. Then he was confused and sitting on Eddie's bathroom sink.

Eddie was concentrated on pressing a wet paper towel to his face. Richie blinked down at him. He was mumbling something angrily and it took Richie a while to start to comprehend what he was saying.

"-And you thought it was funny! You thought him being angry was funny, Richie, you were fucking drunk, and god, you look a mess right now. I can't believe you tried to fight him. He was taller than you, for fuck's sake. He was-"

Richie blanked out again, staring at the way his lips moved. He couldn't really feel the pain in his face. Heh, maybe that was his superpower or something. Immune to feeling injuries! Or maybe he was still drunk.

"He was grabbing at you," Richie mumbled, cutting off whatever Eddie was on about. "And I hate it when guys grab at me. 'M tryna look out for you."

Eddie stopped cleaning his face. His eyes casted downwards. Richie smiled, reaching out to tug on his cheek. He subtly noticed his own knuckles were bruised, but ignored it.

"Don't want you ending up like me," Richie added. Eddie's eyes flicked up to his and they looked upset, almost guilty. Richie didn't let go of his face. He didn't know how long he could go staring at Eddie, but he figured it was pretty long.

"I'm sorry," Eddie murmured. Richie licked his lips and smiled.

"For what?"

Eddie took a shaky breath before answering. "That men touch you like he touched me."

Richie froze. "They always have," he replied, calmly. He tried to think of something he could joke about to lighten the mood, but came up with nothing. He could feel Eddie breathe into his cheeks, before letting the air go. Richie ran his thumb over his cheekbone and smiled gently again.

Eddie's fingers toyed with the bloody paper towel in his hands. He shyly eyed Richie.

"Can I kiss you?" he blurted. "That was stupid. Do your lips hurt? Can I kiss you?" he repeated.

Richie didn't say anything, just leaned back down to catch Eddie's lips with his own. Richie felt something warm in his chest when he did, something he never felt when he made out with random men at parties, or girls in college. It was like his heart swelled up and started to push against his ribcage in tiny shoves.

He held Eddie's jaw and his head turned to the side, deepening the kiss. If he opened his eyes, he could see Eddie's fingers tightly gripping the edge of the counter. Richie smiling into the kiss, and Eddie placed two or three small ones on his lips before pulling back. He cleared his throat and Richie's finger lined his lips lightly. Eddie paused, glancing up at him innocently before he leaned forward again. His hand went up to cup Richie's cheek.

When it did, Richie's eyes blinked open and he bit down on Eddie's lip, yelping a little.

Eddie pulled back and Richie went up to hold his cheek with both his hands.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry, I forgot-"

Richie turned on the counter, bringing a leg up on it and moving to sit in the tub of the sink. He craned his neck to look in the mirror, and shit, he really did look a mess. His cheek was bruised, all purple and blue hues painted and you couldn't even see his freckles, damnit. Richie frowned. His nose was bloody, but not really anymore, because it dried right above his lip. He stared at his reflection, at the frizzy knitted hair and the bruised cheek and the stupid leather Jim Morrison pants and the blood stained shirt and wondered why the fuck Eddie would ever want to kiss him.

He bit his lip and looked over his shoulder in the mirror where Eddie was mumbling apologies anxiously.

"It's okay, babe." Richie turned around and grinned at him again. "It's fine"

Eddie looked like he was about to break down. He bit his lip and smoothed down his pants, then his hands went to his hair to push it back.

Richie stared at him again before reaching out to grab Eddie's arm. He gripped it, eyes asking the boy a silent question, before he tugged him forward and pressed their lips together.

Eddie made a little _mmph_ noise against his lips, and Richie held him by his waist, his hands lightly guiding Eddie closer to the sink he was sitting in.

Eddie's hand moved to Richie's jaw and his thumb brushed against his throat, tapping it gently. Richie made a small moan and opened his mouth. He pulled back a bit so it was just his tongue, lining over Eddie's red lips hotly. Eddie pushed forward again, and Richie's grip on his hips tightened.

They kissed until a phone ringing split Eddie apart from him. He ran his fingers over his own lips and ran out the bathroom to get the phone. Richie watched him leave and climbed out of the sink, catching one last glimpse of himself in the mirror before leaving, switching off the light behind him.

He stumbled into the apartment fully, and Eddie stood next to the phone, arguing with someone and nervously biting a fingernail.

Richie tried not to pay attention to what they were saying. He flopped on the first thing that he came in contact with- Eddie's bed. And once he hit the plush fabric, he passed the fuck out.

* * *

 

He woke up to someone playing with his hair. And his head pounding. And the way his eyes whenever they came in contact with a light source.

He finally adjusted to the sun shining through the blinds and blinked his eyes open. He could've fallen back asleep, he was so exhausted. Right before him was Eddie, his face tired and focused on the curl his nimble fingers were playing with. Richie had foggy memories of the previous night. He knew he was fucked up. He knew he kissed Eddie. He knew that much. He was glad he remembered kissing Eddie. It was a good memory.

Eddie noticed he was awake and smiled softly at him. Neither said anything. Richie watched as the shadows of the blinds casted over his face, illuminating the freckles on his cheeks and nose. Eddie twisted Richie's hair around his fingers. It stayed like that for a while, and both were content.

"Thanks for taking me home last night," Richie muttered. Eddie blinked at him and nodded. Then he shuffled closer in the bed and rested his head under Richie's chin, snaking his arm over his side to pull him in a sort of half hug. Richie let him, humming and closing his eyes again.

"Go back to sleep," Eddie mumbled into his neck. Richie replied by a small groan, and completely enveloped Eddie in his arms. Eddie giggled a little and let him.

"Thank you for fixing me up," Richie said. He could feel the boy smile.

"You're welcome, Rich."

There was a moment of silence, and then, plainly but with full sincerity, Richie repeated, "Thank you."

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hi it's been a little while since i've posted reddie cause i've been writing stanlon but here's this long drabble thing lowkey inspired by breakfast at tiffany's but i changed it up bc i didn't want to make it that long anyways lmk if you like this comment and like and all that thank you for reading!!!!


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